


Does He Love You? (Part One)

by trash_salad



Series: Pink Socks and Backflips [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/F, Lesbian Sex, No pregnancy kink, Pregnancy, champ/waverly marriage mentions, pink baby socks, sad fluff? is that possible? YES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_salad/pseuds/trash_salad
Summary: In small towns, the script goes like this. You date a boy in high school, you marry him, you have his child. Then Waverly meets Nicole.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Welcome to the first act of a three part pregnancy drama nobody asked for! Yes, that's right. This is what happens when you listen to a Rilo Kiley song and you haven't slept in two days and your muse, (remember Bertha?) starts mumbling ideas in your head. Rest easy. Buckle your seat belts. This is gonna be a three parter, no more no less. 
> 
> Something to note, Under The Rafters takes place in a completely different universe. Please don't think this is the sequel to that little series, because it is VERY different. 
> 
> Things to understand going into this fic are such: No revenants. Willa is dead. Dad's dead too. Mrs. Earp's going to be dealt with, but not in this chapter. Champ and Waverly are married. Nicole is a cop, and she just moved to Purgatory. All other extraneous characters will be mentioned, perhaps in passing, perhaps dealing with events. Wynonna actually has her alcoholism have REAL WORLD CONSEQUENCES. This fic is NOT BETA-ed. No fucking time for that, man. I'm a busy gal.  
> Got it? Great. Let's go.

     She did have plans, you know. They were complex plans. Good ones.

     The problem was that damn desire to please. It was instilled in her since childhood, when her father and her sisters wouldn’t give her the time of day. Always performing back flips for smiles, and Champ Hardy was the only boy who’d give standing ovations. Champ always was one for an even exchange. If he told you that you were pretty, he expected a kiss. If he bought you a house, with a ring to match, he wanted you to live in it and he wanted you to wear it. Waverly didn’t mind. She didn’t have the sense to.

     To give him credit, he was good to her. He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t raise a hand. When she got the results, and that little purple plus sign stared her in the face, she knew he would be happy. She let out a breath—shaky and excited. Waverly loved babies, and she knew this one would love her back. Babies didn’t need anything except love and patience, right? Champ used to talk about having a family, he’d done it since the very beginning.

     “How many?” She’d ask, holding his hand. Hands that were large, with square tipped fingers and equally square nails, and they enveloped hers easily.

     “I dunno,” he’s says with a smirk, signature tooth pick in the side of his mouth. “Five or six?”

     She’d laugh. A tittering polite one, the kind he liked to hear. He had no real concept of the expense or responsibility that children brought. Still, it pleased a small part of her. The thought that she’d be surrounded with love. It was naïve, and she was aware of this, but she enjoyed it just the same.      

     She gave him the results, and he was happy. He twirled her around the living room, two good spins, before he stopped, worried about the baby, which wasn’t much more than cells at that moment. She felt reassured. He’d make a good father, she told herself. It didn’t still her nerves completely, but it made them vibrate slower, anyway.

     A week or so after the news and her initial doctor’s visit, Champ got kicked in the stomach by a horse. It took him out of competing for awhile, and eliminated any chance of picking up shifts in construction until his sore ribs healed. Naturally, she got a job. After all, she was only three weeks pregnant, and she loved him. It wasn’t a sacrifice. A voice in her head, the one she often ignored, whispered that he was foolish for still riding broncos for prize money on the weekends. A real job was more practical; he was getting too old, he wasn’t winning, and he was putting himself in danger. She’d shoo the voice away back to its corner, however. She’d bring him food when he asked, she’d let him kiss her, she’d let him lay his weight on her and she’d smile as she did it. It was much easier that way. He was gentle with her, and he’d look her in the eyes and tell her that he loved her like he was supposed to. The fact she could live with or without his touch didn’t mean anything at all. Backflips for a smile.

     She got a job at an antique store. Small, a bit dusty, but she was used to confined spaces. The smell of wood and old knick knacks reminded her of the homestead. The days she’d spend alone in the attic as a child, making castles out of popsicle sticks while she sang made up songs to herself.

     On her first day, close to halfway through her shift, she got a customer. The first one she’d ever had in the first job she’d ever had.

     Bells clunked against the heavy glass door, and her eyes raised from her book. Those eyes found the intruder, and the earth shifted. Nothing to think too much of. Nerves, really.

     “Hello. Welcome to Annie’s Antiques?” Waverly managed to stutter out. The stranger, female, tall, and dressed in uniform, let out a chuckle.

     “You don’t sound so sure.” She joked. Waverly felt her face go hot immediately. The heat spread out to her arms and legs. Hormones.

     “Oh. Sorry. First day.”

     The officer took her hat off and cradled it in her graceful hand. Waverly looked at the rings she wore on that hand, distracted.

     “It’s alright.”

     The stranger took a look around. She ran her fingers over everything she saw, as if absorbing information about the secrets they held, merely with the pads of her fingers. Waverly tried not to stare; she sincerely made an attempt. She even brought her book, a shamelessly dirty romance novel about a pirate and a bar maid, a little too close to her face. However, with compulsion, she’d find herself looking over at the mysterious woman browsing a store hardly anyone ever thought to go into. It was a motivating factor in the job choice.

     Their eyes met over a boudoir and Waverly thought she’d die right there. It was so embarrassing, and she had no idea why that was. Nicole, smiling, eventually made her approach. Waverly, honest to god, briefly considered hiding under her desk.

     “Hi. I’m new to town. Officer Nicole Haught.” The woman held out her hand, the one not holding her hat, obviously. Waverly glanced at those fingers again, thin with neatly trimmed nails. She shook the offered hand, and noted that it was very soft, and fit in Waverly’s like part of a set. Nausea.

     “Hold on.” She mumbled. As quickly as she had shook that hand, she ran out the door, past a bewildered Nicole and threw up on the sidewalk.

     She didn’t typically have morning sickness in the afternoon, but there was a first time for everything, right? She nearly jumped when she felt a hand rub her on the back.

     “You alright?” Came a voice from above, worry evident in its tone.

      “Waverly.”

      “Huh?”

     Waverly ran her sweaty palms down the legs of her jeans.

     “My name is Waverly. Earp. Did I barf on you?”

     The woman, perhaps due to her line of work, didn’t react with disgust. She looked entertained. Waverly felt a bit enthralled, but she didn’t think too much of it. The thought slipped out of her mind like rice paper in a breeze.

      “No. I’m spared.” The officer reassured. “Are you sick?”

      “Pregnant, actually.” Waverly caught the look of disappointment that flashed across the other woman’s face. She interpreted it the worst way.

     “I’m married though!” She said with a cheerful chuckle, raising her left hand, showing off a ring that was more band than diamond, to be blunt. Waverly never cared about that; others might in her position, however. Nicole looked at that ring, then back into that gorgeous face, and bit back the deeper disappointment. _A friend_ , she thought, _that’s not a bad thing._

     “Congratulations!” Nicole said, the smile graceful, genuine. She felt herself already endeared to this girl, and she’d just watched her vomit. She ignored the alarms and fire exits and walked head first into this friendship, consequences be damned.

     Weeks flew by, and their friendship blossomed like Spring, which turned into Summer. Waverly outgrew jeans, and her stomach grew as well. Nicole was a friend, possibly the closest one she’d had. Nicole told her early that she was gay, when they ate sandwiches one afternoon at the Purgatory Diner. Waverly did her best to act surprised, because Nicole was visibly nervous about it. What Nicole didn’t know was Champ had told Waverly the first time she came to their house to drop off something Waverly had left in her truck when she gave her a ride to work one day. It was a passing statement, carelessly tossed in Waverly’s lap. Champ didn’t act jealous, but indifferent. He kissed her the same way he always did. Eventually those kisses became less frequent over time, but it had nothing to do with Nicole’s friendship.

     Waverly knew it was because her body was changing. He’d watch her eat the meals she’d made for them both. He wouldn’t say a word, but his eyes would follow every spoon or fork full as it made its way to her mouth, much like he was witnessing a private show for him to judge. She knew he didn’t mean to; he simply had a preference for petite women, and she wasn’t as thin as she once was. No one in their right mind would call Waverly fat; she was all baby at five months, but the lump was becoming obvious, and she’d been long underweight when they first began to date when she was a teenager. She accepted this judgment and let it shrink her soul little by little, like she accepted everything else he did. It was a bit harder to perform the backflip than it had been before, however. So when he called Nicole a dyke that night, tv blaring in the background, she sat on that couch, holding onto an issue of Parenting magazine Nicole had bought her, and she felt very small.

     When she laid in bed next to him later, listening to the sound of his snores, she had her first honest thought in a long time.

     Nicole would never make her do a backflip. The statement raced through her brain, streaking across synapses and touching every neuron like fingertips touched antiques. She felt the pillow under her back, leaning her safely to the left, stabbing into her like a thorn in her side. Her eyes widened a bit in the darkness. She didn’t give herself an excuse this time. It was true.

     She had her first sonogram a week later. Champ, ever impatient, tapped his boot on the ground in the waiting room. Tap, tap, tap. She reached over, grabbing his knee to halt it. A few moments of silence passed before it started again. Tap, tap, tap. Thunderous. She wanted to scream.

     “She’s looks healthy! Congratulations!” The doctor told them, smile crinkling his eyes. Champ kissed Waverly on the temple, but she’d been staring at him for his reaction as soon as the doctor revealed the gender. She didn’t want to see it, that slight twitch on his face, but it was there and she couldn’t ignore it. She dug her nails into his hand, a twitch of her own. She released it, but he glanced over a bit nervously before giving the Doctor a winning grin. Dr. Anderson said nothing—it wasn’t his place—nobody dared ask the question floating over everyone’s heads. _Whose place was it?_

     Waverly was making a casserole. She hated them, never cared for them since she was a child, but they had always been Champ’s favorite dish. When she smelled the burning, she winced. Pulled it out and tossed the dish onto the top of the oven with exhaustion. She stood there, staring at the ruined dinner, for just a moment. She knew better. She’d been thinking about that expression on Champ’s face. The disappointment. _In his daughter._ Surely she could have other children. The thought made her nauseous. She didn’t want any other children with Champ. She felt the tears, already beginning to burn at the back of her eyeballs, beg to dash past her long eyelashes. She let them.

     Champ watched TV in the living room. He was tired from work, which he’d returned to again a month prior. He worked longer hours now. He’d come home and go straight to the shower, and she’d let him. Waverly wasn’t stupid. She’d graduated at the top of her class. She just didn’t care. The reality of his cheating hit her like a brick against concrete, and she was the concrete.

     She bit on the back of her hand to stop from being too loud. Sobs from deep in her gut. Long, painful sobs. She was happy for the endorphins, which rushed through her blood stream like a drug. Beside her, a phone buzzed.

     Nicole had texted. She’d known about the appointment for the sonogram. She wanted to know, what was it? Waverly took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes with a rag.

     It was a girl, she typed. And she was beautiful. The phone buzzed immediately. A whole screen full of emojis, so many she had to scroll. She hiccupped back a smile. The last line was a row of hearts in every color. She knew it was insane, the way her heart squeezed. They were emojis. Waverly knew a heart emoji was equal to a shrimp emoji in terms of emotional weight. Still, the real heart, the one under her sternum, squeezed. It betrayed her.

     She chewed on her lip for a second. _I burned a casserole._ It was odd, Waverly knew, to respond with that message. Three dots danced under her text. They stopped. They came back again, for a second or two, and then once again stopped.

     The phone rang. It was Nicole, of course. Waverly put the phone down with a gasp. She had tried to lay down an enigma, and Nicole saw right through it. She was going to know, if she dared answer, that she’d been crying. Nicole was perceptive, endlessly perceptive.

     Champ was watching TV. She felt fire burn through her veins. She grabbed the casserole, and threw it in the trash. The whole fucking thing—including the porcelain dish Champ’s mother Martha had gifted to her with a wink and a smile. Champ loves casseroles, Martha had told her.

     She felt like she’d been asked to do a backflip, and kicked Champ in his face instead. Emboldened, she grabbed four large hefty bags from the pantry.

     Champ loved this show. It was about these stoners who worked together, getting into all kinds of adventures. The humor was juvenile, and he couldn’t care less. He didn’t listen to the sound of Waverly laughing in the bedroom of to his right. He had smelled the burnt food, but didn’t worry. She would make another meal, and it’d be better. He had faith in her, because she was dependable. Becky Langston was a mistake, and he felt guilty about it, but he knew once she gave birth, once they had their child, everything would be back to normal again. Becky would understand, and so would Waverly. A man had needs, and all Becky would ever be was a cheap fuck in his truck. Waverly was the one you married. Surely she knew that.

     “Babe?” He asked, when the laughing had stopped. Waverly arrived, her arms full of black trash bags that looked full to the brim. “Babe?” He asked again. He got up and watched her throw those bags on the lawn. One bag hit the ground with a clatter. A trophy of his fell out onto the grass. He followed her outside. Looked at the mess.

     “Waverly?” He said, anger beginning to drown him like the rising tide in a wave pool. “What in the fuck are you doing?!”

     “That girl you fuck? Does she have her own place?” Waverly asked, brushing her long wavy  hair out of her face, eyes wild.

     “Babe…” He began, gripping his toes into the grass of their lawn. She made a face he’d never seen before, full of rage with a jaw snapped shut, and she disappeared back in the house before he could finish. He felt deflated then, looking at the clothes and trophies strewn all over his lawn, helpless. He ran his hand over his face, rubbing his fingers on stubble. He needed to shave, he thought suddenly.

     The shot rang out into the air at seven in the evening, and it scared the ever loving shit out of him.

     “Does she have her own place!” Waverly screamed, sawn off shotgun in her hands which hung triumphantly in the air like she was holding an American flag. She waved it around too, to complete the visual. He blinked as a bit of buckshot made its way back to the ground below and landed on the meat of the top of his foot. It was hot, and he staggered back.

     “Yes!” He screeched. Waverly looked at him, then. She stared through him, to be precise.

     Her response came out low and even.

     “Then grab your shit and go to her, Champ. Go right now.”

     She really didn’t need to tell him twice. He grabbed at the bags, threw them into his truck bed, and patted at his pockets. He needed a key. They hit him in the face with the precision of a baseball pitch.

     He drove off, barefoot, hungry, and horrified. Tire marks were left on the driveway in his haste. The neighbors had called the police a good forty five minutes prior. Six phone calls. Small town like Purgatory, six phone calls to the same emergency line will get some attention.

     Nicole sat in the patrol car eating dinner—a peanut butter sandwich—feeling dejected. She couldn’t help it, though she had no right to feel this way. Waverly was a friend, she had a husband, a little girl on the way, and Nicole knew her place. At the rejected phone call—just one call, because she had self control—she felt a bit sad, but gave the other woman the benefit of the doubt. People texted weird things all the time. Waverly told her once she was a very good cook, so perhaps burning a cooking staple hit her hard. Pregnancy hormones were weird, after all. Straight women were weird as well.

     Nicole had decided to do something nice to counteract the feelings she felt. She pulled the cruiser into the closest thing this town had to a Target (admittedly, it was not very close) in search of a gift for the baby. This caused an issue. Nicole knew guns, she knew how to take down burly drunks. She had no idea what do to in the baby section of a modest department store.

     Three rows of baby clothes, gear, and supplies surrounded her. They mocked her quietly. She touched everything in front of her, a habit she’d had since childhood. Lesbians like her, possibly gay since birth, didn’t think much of having a child of her own. She wasn’t born to rich or supporting parents, and despite being flirtatious and charming, hadn’t quite found a girl worth spending a fortune on IVF and the sperm necessary for offspring. A girl that liked girls, anyway. She shushed that thought in her mind as quickly as it came.

     She ran the finger on the tiniest pink socks she’d ever seen and smiled. Waverly appreciated little gestures. It was what she adored about her.

     She was standing at the register, getting change, when the radio on her hip squawked at her. She mouthed an apology to the frightened elderly woman who rang her up, before lifting the radio to her lips and answered. Domestic disturbance at an address she knew immediately was Waverly’s. Discharge of a weapon. She felt the blood in her body run cold as ice. She stood stock still.

     “Don’t you gotta be somewhere?” The little old lady said, after a second.

     “Right.”

     Nicole ran off at full speed toward the doors, hurriedly shoving pink socks into her pocket.

     Waverly had long since put the shotgun away when the cruiser came screaming around the corner and racing toward her house. Waverly knew it was coming—she had such nosy neighbors—and had waited patiently on the porch for their arrival. When she saw it was Nicole, she felt frightened for an entirely different reason.

     She was immediately enveloped in a hug.

     “Thank God!” Nicole shouted in relief. She didn’t want to let go, but she did. She took her gun out of her holster lightning fast, and whipped her head around, looking for Champ.

     “Where’s Champ.” She growled. Despite the incredibly terrible timing, this side of Nicole sent a very recognizable lightning bolt of lust through Waverly. She didn’t bother to attribute that to hormones. She knew exactly what that was, terrible moment or not.

     “He’s gone. Likely to that girl he’s been having sex with behind my back.” This statement gave the taller woman pause. Nicole looked down at the crunch under her boot. It was buck shot.

     “You shot into the air.” She said, strangely calm.

     “Yes?” Waverly replied, nervous. Nicole sighed, growing slack. She holstered her weapon.

     “You know how much paper work this means?” Nicole groaned. It was definitely the hormones, but the look of disappointment that was on the officer’s face struck Waverly in the entirely wrong way. She stared off into the distance, the tears rapidly coming to her eyes. Nicole watched this change in mood, eyes wide with alarm.

     “Hey, Waves? It’s fine… really!” It was too late, however. Waverly had rushed inside, bawling. Nicole gave chase.

     Mrs. Johnson watched this whole show from her doorway. Her husband George told her to stop snooping and come inside.

     “Alright!” She grumbled. “The lesbians went inside, anyway.” It was a shame too. She couldn’t wait to tell the girls at her bridge game. Nicole and Waverly’s little friendship was a favorite topic, almost as much as their favorite soaps.

     “Look, it was nothing, okay? I’m just lazy, and I hate paperwork.” Nicole gave her best try to soothe, and it seemed to help a little. Waverly was wiping at her face, letting out little puffs of breath as she did so.

     “I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous. It’s just… I’ve been disappointing so many people lately.”

     Nicole could only stare, incredulous.

     “Disappointing… who in the hell could you ever disappoint? Champ?”

     Waverly told Nicole about the expression he got when he heard the news. The other woman’s face fell immediately. She could relate to Waverly’s reaction, albeit abstractly. She’d seen a very similar look on her father’s face, at the age of seventeen, when she told him she liked girls. She didn’t share that, however. The focus was on the woman in front of her, not her own trauma.

     “He’s a fucking moron, then. I’ve always thought that, but now I’ve got another reason to add to the list.”

     Waverly couldn’t help the next words that came out of her mouth.

     “He used to say you were jealous of him, can you believe that?” Waverly said with a laugh. She meant for it to be another thing to bond over, truth be told.

     It was met with silence.

     “Nicole?” Waverly pressed. She watched Nicole’s panicked expression from where she stood. Her heart squeezed. She thought of emojis. “Are you jealous, Nicole?” She nearly whispered.

     “Do you…uh…want the right answer or the real one?” The officer replied, sticking her hands into her pockets. She felt something hit her right hand with a crinkle. Before she could think, she pulled it out. It was a package of tiny pink socks. Fearfully, she turned and looked into green eyes that stared at her with an intensity that made her skin tingle.

     “Are those socks?” Waverly choked out. She slowly approached. She watched Nicole nervously twitch her fingers across the fabric of the tiny socks.

     Waverly realized she loved those fingertips. She loved the person that lay on the other end of them. The woman who was currently looking at her like she could murder her right there in that second with a few choice words.

     She took another step. Nicole stepped back in response. Waverly smiled again, and took another. This continued, like a little game, until Nicole had her ass against the back of Waverly’s couch. Trapped.

     Nicole held the socks out like a sacrifice. She was terrified by a woman a full head shorter than she. She wasn’t raised this meek. Normally, when she saw something she wanted, she didn’t want to wait. Why was she so hesitant? She looked down at the baby bump that pressed against the lower side of her abdomen. Oh, right.

     Waverly followed those eyes. Her face showed hurt immediately. Nicole, immediately knowing how that might have looked, jumped into action. Quickly, she reached up to take the other girl’s tiny face into her hands and kissed her.

     Waverly’s read a lot of books. Her favorites were romance novels, though they were definitely a guilty pleasure. Her sisters would tease her relentlessly for them when she first began to read them.

     Nicole’s lips on Waverly’s felt more right than literally any other kiss she’d ever had in her life. It was not an overstatement, since she’d literally only kissed Champ, but it was true. Nicole lifted her up, like she weighted practically nothing, and sat her right on the top of that couch. Waverly’s hands immediately went to the buttons of Nicole’s uniform. Waverly felt incredibly alive. The baby inside her shifted, as if to make that point obvious.

     She’d done it before, it was nothing new, but it still came as a surprise. It seemed Waverly’s baby liked Nicole too.

     Immediately, Nicole broke the kiss.

     “Are you okay?” She said, her voice full of worry. Waverly smiled, and kissed Nicole on the nose.

     “Yeah. A lot of excitement tonight.” This seemed to remind Nicole that she was at work.

     “About that… I am…” Nicole gestured toward her uniform. A bit self conscious, she began to button up what Waverly had undone in the heat of the moment.

     “You’re right. You should go.”

     “We will continue… talking… when I get off work.” Nicole said, helping Waverly off the couch, a bit embarrassed at her own earlier enthusiasm.

     “When will you be done?” Waverly asked, a bit vulnerable. Nicole glanced at her watch and winced.

     “Six hours? I’m sorry.”

     Waverly smiled, suddenly calm.

     “I can wait.” She’d waited all her life up until this point without realizing it.

     She spent the rest of the night in the big bed she had all to herself, and rubbed her belly absentmindedly, content smile on her face. She thought about the romance novels she often preferred to people. Thought about how her life compared to the plots that played out on their pages. Naturally, her mind wandered.

     When she was growing up and first showed her interest in romance novels, Willa—mean as a snake—would often snatch a novel right out of her hands, read the most embarrassing line she could find (there were plenty), and then toss it to Wynonna over Waverly’s head. Wynonna, the middle child and thus a bit less cruel, quickly grew tired of this game. Willa moved onto another method of torture eventually.

     “You’re a perv, like me. Just the nerdier kind.” Wynonna said to her once, when they were alone.

     Wynonna, unlike Waverly, wasn’t in Purgatory anymore. She had her own problems, heavy and overwhelming, and Wynonna—uncomfortable with being a burden—usually kept them far away from Waverly. When Waverly had talked to her last, it was via a phone call to a burner phone. Wynonna seemed a little tearful when she heard the news of Waverly’s pregnancy. She was, from the very beginning, the most vocal about her distain for Champ.  

     “Kudos, kid.” Wynonna had said on the other end. “Married _before_ pregnancy. You’ve always been a class above me and Willa.” Since the very day Willa died, Wynonna refused to refer to Willa in the past tense. It was a cheap form of rebellion against her suicide, Wynonna said it herself, but she did it anyway. Waverly swallowed her bitterness down when she thought of her oldest sister. It was much easier to think kindly of people who weren’t around anymore to torture you.

     Waverly always grieved when Wynonna would inevitably relapse again. Waverly looked up at the ceiling, shedding a small tear. She gave a tiny prayer that maybe her child might give Wynonna the strength to stop drinking for good this time.

      

     She had fallen asleep when she got the text to her phone. She was so excited about Nicole that she made sure to turn the volume all the way up on her notifications and sleep with the phone right next to her head.

     When her phone beeped unnaturally loud next to her head, she nearly threw it against the wall. Suddenly remembering, opened her phone and read the text Nicole sent saying she was waiting outside in her truck, and does she still want to talk?

     Waverly smiled and shook her head. She may have been pregnant and hormonal, but she wasn’t going to change her mind about Nicole in half a dozen hours.

     She opened the door to find Nicole sitting in the driver’s seat of her pick up, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel while looking lost in her own thoughts.

     She got close enough to tap on the window when Nicole saw her and jumped, a bit startled.

     Waverly put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

     Nicole got opened her door and slunk out, looking incredibly embarrassed. Her hair was down, and the vibrancy of her auburn hair was more obvious in the morning light. Waverly wanted to run her fingers through it, but she just twitched her fingers at her side instead.

     “Did I scare you, Officer?” Waverly teased.

     “Ha. Ha. Don’t act like you can’t be frightening when you want to be, Hot Shot!” Nicole responded, an easy smile on her lips. It was nearly foreplay, the way they joked with each other now. It wasn’t at any different a frequency or playfulness than been before they kissed, but either consciously or not, they had held something back before.

     When Waverly walked up the easy four steps leading to the porch of her home, Nicole immediately put her hand on her lower back to steady her. As unnecessary as the gesture was, it made Waverly feel incredibly cared for, and it took a lot of will power to not immediately whip herself around and make out with the officer on her front lawn.

     “So…” Nicole began, sitting on the couch next to Waverly, her hands firmly planted on her thighs. Waverly, much more casual and at peace, had her feet up on the coffee table. It was a power move perhaps, but the reality was she was no less pregnant than she was last night, and this was a much more comfortable position than the one Nicole was currently sitting in.

     “Yes.”

     “You and Champ?” Nicole asked nervously. She didn’t quite know where to go with this conversation she’d just started.

     “Done. Completely.” Waverly said, her tone serious and final.

     “Good.” The red head said. She picked at a stray thread coming off the end of her shorts. Nervousness always made Nicole’s reasoning falter, and she began to pull on the thread, a thread that was rapidly getting longer and longer by the second.

     Waverly sat back and watched her pull without a word. The khaki colored thread was rapidly approaching five or so inches in length when she spoke up.

     “Nicole, are you doing okay?”

     The other woman let out a long exhale, and bit her lip.

     “No. I am, without a doubt, incredibly nervous. I feel…” She searched for the words, “Like I’m at the World Series, ninth inning, and I’m last at bat during a game where we’re down by one.” The absurdity of the sports reference at this moment didn’t go unnoticed. Waverly had never heard Nicole talk about baseball in the entirety they’d known each other. Admittedly, half a year isn’t a decade…

     “Are the bases fully loaded?” Waverly teased. Nicole looked down at the baby bump easily in her line of vision and smiled adoringly.

     “Yes. Definitely.”

     That moment put every romance novel Waverly had ever read to shame instantly. She felt the baby shift suddenly, and swallowed quickly. Nicole noticed this, and recognized it as the baby moving. Before, she’d watch as Waverly would squirm in place for a moment, unsure what her place was in this scenario. A part of her would tell her it was Champ’s child, and thus he was the one who should be allowed to feel the baby move under his hand. It was antiquated thinking, obviously, fueled by a bit of self hatred. Everyone loved babies, and typically a pregnant woman would grant a polite request from a friend to feel the baby move inside her. The problem was, Nicole never quite eased into the title of ‘friend’ in the five or so months they’d known each other. It was obvious now, but back then, it’d been painful for her.

     The baby was practically doing a samba inside her belly. She reached over and grabbed Nicole’s hand. She saw the surprised look on the woman’s face as she placed it gingerly on her side. Together they slid that hand over Waverly’s stomach, searching for movement.

     “I felt it!” Nicole whispered to herself. Waverly watched the wonder on her face.

     “You act like you’ve never felt a baby kick before.” Waverly joked. Nicole offered her a weak smile. “Why?” The brunette asked.

     “Would you believe me if I said I never really cared that much before?” The red head said, nervously pushing red hair behind her ear. Her brown eyes locked onto Waverly’s, willing her to hear what lay underneath those words.

     _You’re different, and this is different. I love you. Please, please, love me back._

     Waverly heard them, but they came to her about as clear as dispatch commands through Nicole’s police issue radio. When you weren’t used to hearing it, often times it sounded like gibberish and static.

     “That was really cool, Waverly. Thank you for that.” Nicole admitted. Waverly let go of Nicole’s hand then, and despite her desire not to, the older girl let it gently slide off Waverly’s stomach.

     _Please._

     “I want you to…” Waverly began, tapering off. Nicole turned to her, mouth slightly open, expression expectant.

     “Yeah?”

     “Do you think I’m beautiful, Nicole? Be honest.” Waverly said. Nicole did not expect her to say that. She nearly laughed at the absurdity.

     “Waverly, you know how there’s a donut shop across from Annie’s Antiques?”

     “Yes?” She was a bit upset at the misdirection, but more curious as to where this was going, so her irritation stayed buried for now.

     “Well, I don’t like to be stereotypical, but that day when I met you, I was at that shop. Nedley, the sheriff? He loves strawberry donuts. I only know that because he told me, right before he asked me to get him a dozen.” The look on Waverly’s face is incredulous. Nicole, unperturbed, continues. “So I’m in line, right? Three people in front of me, four behind me. Insane. I’m thinking to myself, ‘how easy would it be to move to another town after a week?’ I turn my head to look out the window, the big one facing—you guessed it—Annie’s Antiques. Well, I see this beautiful girl with hair for days walking to the door and unlocking it with a key.”

     Waverly’s beginning to smile now, a bit watery, but a vibrant one. She says not a word, just listens.

     “I’d love to be a detective one day, so naturally I’m always super observant—you know—as practice. I think to myself ‘if this girl’s got a key, she probably works there’. I wanted to say fuck it to Nedley’s donuts and march right in there to beg you to date me, but I like money, so I got the stupid donuts. I probably ran a stop sign on the way back to the station, I’ll be honest. I threw the donuts on his desk and went back out on ‘patrol.’” Nicole raises her fingers to make air quotes when she says patrol, which earns her a giggle.

     “I go in there, to an antique shop of all places. You remember how long it took me to unpack those cardboard boxes in my apartment?” She asked.

     “Forever.” Waverly supplied, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

     “Let’s just say I had no business shopping for antiques. I did see this really creepy lamp when I was in there, and I thought of sending it to my aunt for Christmas, but this girl in there, the pretty one I was talking about, she would _not_ stop staring at me. Probably thought I was going to shop lift.”

     Waverly smacked Nicole in the arm hard enough to leave a bit of a red mark. Nicole looked down at the tiny red handprint on her arm, and grinned.

     “Anyway, I thought I might have a chance. I marched up to her, best swagger I could manage, and made her so impressed she barfed. I was going to ask her on a date when she told me she was pregnant, and even worse, that she was married. So I just decided to be her friend instead.”

     “How’d that work out for you?” Waverly said, her voice a bit hoarse. Nicole swallowed, and she saw the pink socks she’d bought, so intimidatingly tiny she’d easily missed them, laying on top of a stack of How-To Mommy Guides and that damned Parenting magazine she’d gotten her months ago.

     “The bases are loaded, Waverly. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen; you were five months ago, you are now, and in four more months, when you’re about to pop, you’re gonna be even more beautiful.” _Because I love you._

     Waverly stood up and turned to Nicole. She held her hand out, which Nicole took with a questioning glance. Waverly lead the other woman to what had originally been planned to be the baby’s room. Champ had painted the walls light blue without telling Waverly, intending for it to be a surprise, only a month into her pregnancy. Nicole noticed this room for what it was immediately, and her facial expression showed easy irritation because she knew—of course she knew—who’d done this. Waverly kicked her flats into the corner of her room, got on her toes, and kissed Nicole again. It was sweet but brief.

     “Make love to me, Nicole.” She said. Nicole paused, looking Waverly deeply in her eyes.

     “Are you sure?”

     “Yes.”

     “In here? Why not on your bed?”

     Waverly didn’t like the idea of having sex in a room she’d shared with Champ. It made her want to burn the whole house down.

     “That bed’s not mine. That’s… it’s his bed.” Waverly asserted, voice calm yet steely. Nicole accepted this answer. A part of her knew maybe this was too soon, and hoped Waverly wouldn’t regret this later. Her heart wanted it more than anything, however. Nicole, try as she might, could never deny Waverly a request.

     Nicole leaned forward to kiss the smaller woman then. They were gentle at first, growing rapidly in intensity. Waverly allowed the tongue into her mouth, and Nicole eased her slowly to the floor. Waverly, untouched for months, reacted to the kiss in a nearly Pavlovian manner. She was dressed for comfort, not sexiness, but Nicole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. She ran her fingers over Waverly’s curves, and every bit of skin she touched became covered in goosebumps. She pulled the tank top off Waverly’s shoulders, and took care not to pull any of Waverly’s hair when she did so. Waverly’s bra came off just as carefully, exposing tender breasts that were not quite at the point of lactation, per se, but were definitely more sensitive.

     Waverly felt an almost agonizing throb begin when Nicole took the time to glance at her in a silent ask of permission. She tried not to nod so eagerly as to look like she’d gone mad with lust.

     She licked chapped lips and began to breathe out in ragged broken pants when Nicole’s long tongue touched the tip of her left nipple, which was nearly so erect it hurt, to be frank.

     Nicole, wanting to worship her like she deserved but probably far past patient enough at this point, took that nipple into her mouth with the desperation of someone who had spent a lot of nights imagining doing this very act.

     Waverly’s hand reached up to grab the back of Nicole’s head with the speed of a joint reflex. Nicole, encouraged but still cautious over causing pain, eagerly rolled her tongue around on the sensitive nipple, pulling back far enough to let the nipple free of the suction of her pursed lips with an audible pop. She went to the other nipple, and gave it the same treatment. She was rubbing the edges of her teeth on the tender tip of Waverly’s right nipple (gently of course, knowing better than to bite) when Waverly, now able to literally count her heartrate thanks to the urgent throb of her clit, grabbed her head with both of her hands, and a bit impolitely began to push her downward.

     Nicole, good natured as always ( _and so incredibly aroused_ ) just snickered and kissed the other woman’s baby bump as she obeyed the silent demand.

     She was slowly inching down Waverly’s sweat pants when she heard an irritated grunt, and the hands on her head swatted Nicole’s hands away and, with a back arch, pulled those sweat pants nearly to her ankles.

     Nicole couldn’t help herself at this point. She barked out a laugh, and all it got her was a squirm and a whine.

     “Nicole, please!” Waverly exclaimed, too turned on to even get properly mad.

     “I’m sorry, baby.” She cooed. She parted Waverly’s legs, and saw just how aroused Waverly was for herself. Waverly, ever the people pleaser, and definitely a millennial, had continued to shave up until now. Her lips were engorged, and an ever so slight twinge of pink. Her arousal made her glisten. Nicole nearly drooled at the sight. “Perfect…” She mumbled to herself, before she leaned in to taste.

     Champ had never eaten Waverly out in her life. The fact she practically begged Nicole to do it was unexpected, even from her. It might have been due to the fact that Nicole kissed her like she did it for a living. The full and gorgeous lips of her mouth would meet hers like two pieces of a wood puzzle. The satisfaction of two intersecting parts of a whole meeting together had appealed to Waverly as a two year old, and it stayed like that for twenty two years after. Only difference was, this puzzle wasn’t shaped like a bird.

     Nicole was lovingly suckling at Waverly’s clit, and just snuck two masterful fingers in her cunt. Waverly swore she was nearly about to die right there on the floor of her unborn baby’s nursery.

     The word ‘surreal’ didn’t cover it. Miraculous? Closer. She had to stop thinking then, very suddenly, because she was about to cum harder than she’d ever managed to in her life.

     “Yes! Oh fuck, Nicole, yes!”

     A spasm, akin perhaps to a seizure shook Waverly’s body. Nicole withdrew from her, gently rubbing soothing circles onto Waverly’s baby bump as she came back to Earth.

     Nicole listened to her breathe for awhile, her cheek resting on Waverly’s thigh. She nearly came herself without even being touched, and she was way too overdressed, but she was satisfied simply by making the woman she loved happy. A small hand patted her on her shoulder.

     “Up.” Waverly said. Nicole wordlessly obliged, lifting herself on her hands and crawling up to meet her face to face.

     “I’m not exactly… I mean I’ve never had sex with a woman before.”

     “It’s fine, Waves.”

     “No. I want to. I need to touch you.” She was insistent. Nicole sat up, looking down at Waverly. She wanted to call the other woman her girlfriend, but she didn’t honestly know what you’d call this, so early.

     “Are you sure?”

     Waverly nodded, still a bit dazed. She thought she might have looked insane with her comfortable pants around her ankles, barefoot, with no top on. She kicked the sweats off, flinging them with her toes off in a random direction.

     “I mean, it’s not super complicated.” Nicole said thoughtfully. Waverly sat up, propping herself onto bent arms.

     “Can I see you?” Waverly requested, simply. Nicole pulled off her simple tshirt, exposing the sports bra underneath. She looked over to the other girl, who held her breath, watching. Encouraged, she pulled off her bra. Nicole’s breast were smaller than Waverly’s, but shapely and pert. Her skin was paler, skin subtly dusted with a smattering of freckles. It’d never been obvious to Waverly just how lean yet feminine Nicole’s body actually was.

     Any time Waverly had seen Nicole in civilian clothes, they were loose fitting and muted colors. She mainly dressed in earth tones, stripes or solid colors. Waverly quickly noted in the months they spent together that the officer probably didn’t own a single patterned blouse anywhere in her closet. It wasn’t that her clothing choices were masculine—she’d once seen a dress or two in Nicole’s closet when the woman had gone through it to find the missing left shoe to a pair of running shoes—it was simply that the other woman preferred to be understated. She didn’t like standing out, despite her obvious beauty. Nicole was gorgeous, but Waverly highly doubted the redhead had any real grasp of this fact.

     The khaki shorts, ratty from probably years of ownership, slid off a pair of hips and an ass that Waverly had definitely noticed before. Previously, she’d told herself it was envy that made her glance, because Waverly was petite, and nowhere near as curvaceous. She knew better now, obviously. She admitted to herself that Nicole had an amazing ass, and seeing the slightly unsure naked woman in front of her now, she knew she needed her hands on that ass right now.

     “This is gonna sound weird, Nicole. But can you, uh…” Waverly didn’t want to say that she wanted Nicole to basically ride her face, so she gestured in a sort of bizarre way one might attempt to during some kind of sex themed game of charades.   

     Nicole stared at the other woman, confusion written plainly on her face.

     “What are you doing?” She asked, reaching up to nervously scratch at the back of her ear. Waverly, realizing that she was going to have to get some nerve if she wanted to do this, threw her arms up in the air.

     “Sit on my face, Nicole!” Waverly nearly yelled. Immediately her hand went flying to her mouth. Brown eyes were incredibly wide now. “That was a bit louder than I meant it to be.” Waverly said with a cringe. Nicole didn’t say a word in response. There wasn’t a laugh this time. She was busy scooting and getting position because _this was the opportunity of a lifetime and Nicole would rather die than miss it._

     She was on her knees, very close to Waverly’s head when she hesitated, but the younger woman simply wasn’t having it. With her left hand, the smaller girl reached over to Nicole’s left thigh and tapped it. Nicole lifted the knee and carefully placed it on the other side of Waverly’s head. Waverly looked up at the sight above her like she was at the Sistine Chapel.

     Waverly didn’t wait for another second before she had both her hands firmly placed on both of Nicole’s ass cheeks and leaned forward to taste her.

     Nicole wasn’t a stranger to lesbian sex by any means. She knew that cunniligus was in itself and art form, and took practice, patience, and research. Waverly wasn’t going to be a master when she’d only had sex with one person in her life, and that person had a penis. Nicole was however, so incredibly horny at that moment, a hard gust of wind in the right direction could have made her cum. So when Waverly, rather boldly, took a long swipe at her with the flat size of her tongue, the shock of it alone nearly made her lose her balance and fall on her face.

     “Christ on a cracker!” She hissed, immediately leaning forward and onto her hands. Last thing she needed was to break her nose. From down below, she heard a giggle. “Waves, uh… so I don’t die, stick your tongue out, relax, and let me sort of guide you.”

     Waverly listened, knowing better than to challenge someone who easily had experience on her. Her tongue obediently laid on the redhead’s clitoris. The nub, a bit larger than Waverly’s, was fully engorged and God, did Nicole feel it!

     She braced herself against the heat of that tongue, and began to rock against it. Waverly, a quick study, had figured out the pattern Nicole had desperately begun to grind against the tip of her tongue. Waverly didn’t expect to enjoy Nicole’s taste as much as she did. She wouldn’t admit it, but she’d tasted herself on occasion, the nights she spent alone as a teen, reading a romance novel that hit her just the right way. It started as a shameful way to get the smell of herself off her fingers in a hurry. Rapidly though, she began to find her fingers travelling to her mouth when no such need arose. Nicole’s cum, slightly sticky on her tongue, was balanced in tartness. There was a vague sweetness as well, reminiscent of her own. The pussy that ground into her face was smearing Nicole’s essence, clear and sticky and addictive, all over Waverly’s sharp jaw and angular cheeks. There was a bit of a forbidden element to emphatically eating the cunt of a girl who’d only weeks ago you’d gone grocery shopping with as a close confidant and friend. Waverly hadn’t explored her sensual side, and if you sat her down and asked her seriously what she had for a kink, she would smile and shrug at you sincerely.

     She was getting a vague idea, listening to the throaty moans of the woman she was shamelessly devouring, what some of those kinks might be. As if suddenly remembering its presence, she gripped at the firm and gorgeous ass under her splayed fingers. She felt a streak of boldness run through her, as she felt the slickness between her own legs become more and more obvious, and with a hand pulled back, delivered a singing slap against Nicole’s right ass cheek.

     “Fuck!” Came a yelp of surprise above her. Waverly’s brow knit a bit in concern she’d done something wrong, and she put her hand back on that cheek to rub the pain away, but her tongue got coated with a rush of sudden wetness, and well, there was her answer, grinding on her face. She was beginning to feel a bit of remorse she’d missed the fun in this, wasting time with Champ.

     One more hearty smack, this time with the other hand against the opposite cheek, and she got the bright idea to gingerly suck Nicole’s clit with her lips. Almost like she’d just read a cosmo article or something, her tongue danced around the tip of the nub, feather light and in an endless circle, and that was ultimately what made Nicole break.

     She expected a cry or a yell, but what she got instead was a shuddery breath, a body quivering above her, spasms in the thighs clutching the sides of her head, and Nicole, unable to stand a second more climbed off of her and nearly collapsed beside her. In her unborn baby’s nursery, her mind reminded her. She smiled. Her face was sticky, she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and the room, though she really couldn’t tell at the moment, likely smelled like sex. Okay, she was fairly certain it smelled like sex.

     Nicole was breathing really hard and staring at her without saying anything.

     “I want to be there when you have her.” Nicole announced. Have who? It dawned on her then. The child she was carrying. Champ’s child, specifically. The thought seemed like an abstraction.

     “Okay,” Waverly started. Nicole didn’t seem to hear her, though, because she had pressed on.

     “I probably don’t have any right, because I’ve only known you half a year, and Champ’s been with you since you were in twelfth grade, but I want to be there, god dammit. I feel like I should be there.” The last part came out a bit strangled, and Waverly looked up to see Nicole struggling, her lip quivering just a bit. It made her heart hurt, and she sat up quickly, and reached over to the red head, who desperately seemed to be barely holding it together.

     “Nicole, of course you can be there. I want you there! Long before this whole thing, I wanted you in the room holding a camcorder or something, because God knows Champ would never do that.” Waverly didn’t kiss Nicole, considering that they were both covered in sex and needed to bathe, but she tried to convey what she felt with the tenderest of  words and glances.

     Nicole nodded, finally looking into Waverly’s eyes.

     “Let’s shower now, please.” Waverly commanded, already standing to her feet. Nicole eagerly followed.

     The shower was innocent enough. Waverly was aroused, if her wandering eyes were any indication, but Nicole washed the shorter girl’s hair for her, captivated by it’s length and gloriousness. Nicole, in a sort of hypnosis, gathered the lengths in her hands and pulled them over Waverly’s shoulders to cover her breasts.

     “Mermaid.” Nicole commented simply. Waverly rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a very happy smile.

     Waverly smiled so much that day her cheeks hurt. It was a pain that was overall addictive.

     They didn’t do much for water conservation in that shower. They did leave clean, however.

     Nicole put her sports bra on, but had to borrow underwear from Waverly. Specifically, a thong.

     “Why would someone do this to themselves?” Nicole exclaimed to herself, pulling them over her hips.

     “Do you honestly think that ass would fit in a pair of my briefs?” Waverly chirped from a corner, dressing a few feet away.

     “Yeah, well… yeah.” Nicole grumbled anyway.

     Nicole lounged in the living room in only underwear while Waverly washed the only clothes she had in the washing machine for her. Waverly happily made them lunch (they’d pretty much missed breakfast anyway)

     She made grilled ham and cheese. Nicole listened to Waverly move around in the kitchen from the couch, before her curiosity got the best of her and she wandered to sit at the kitchen table and watch. Any doubt she felt about what they’d done disappeared when she watched the way Waverly did the mundane act of grilling two sandwiches with a visible lightness and ease to her step. She’d noticed the smaller woman’s grace before, but this was different. The smile she wore on her face didn’t seem to come with a price. Her eyes drifted downward, just now noticing the ring that still was on Waverly’s left hand. It made her frown, and her stomach flipped.

     In terms of karma what they’d done was no worse than what Champ had done. Their friendship, while perhaps a bit more, had never crossed any lines or become physical any point that Champ and Waverly were still an item. Legally however, the two were still married. That didn’t stop just because Waverly had made him leave. This house she sat in was under his name. He’d come back for it, and his other things. He’d come back for the child too, if he felt so inclined. The pang of fear sat in Nicole’s stomach. She felt the tile under her toes might envelop her.

     Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the paper plate appear in front of her. Coming quickly back to reality, she offered Waverly a smile, but her eyes didn’t shine in the typical way they did, and the other woman noticed it instantly.

     “You’re not—you don’t—“ Waverly began, her face suddenly crest fallen. She couldn’t get the words past her lips. Regret. It’d been lingering in the back of her mind happily ignored until this very second. Nicole shook her head, expression sad.

     “I don’t regret this, Waverly. I can’t.” She took the hand in question, her finger tips grasping at the gold as she held up the finger the ring wrapped around. “This ring, though? It’s more than a symbol. We need to discuss what we’re going to do about it.”

     The ‘we’ in Nicole’s statement eased the fear in Waverly’s mind despite the gravity of what the woman told her. She knew they were both perhaps in over their heads, but she felt better knowing she wasn’t going to be alone. It was a small comfort, perhaps, but it was real. Waverly clung to it the same way she clung to the paper plate she held her own sandwich on.

     “Can we at least eat first?” She couldn’t fight the tremor from her voice. Nicole looked pained, conflicted.

     “Of course, Waverly. I’m sorry. There’s no real way to time any of this right.”

      They sat and ate in relative silence. Nicole tried to smile as she ate, but Waverly’s eyes were staring at a dishrag a few feet away, eyes stormy and distant. Silently she reached over to grab Waverly’s hand. Waverly withdrew it, and Nicole felt her chest seize, but it was only to pull the modest wedding ring off her finger. It was a statement, an important one. The paleness of the skin underneath it spoke volumes, but Nicole fearlessly embraced the hand it marked. She knew she’d be around long enough to see the tan restored.

     That ring sat on the kitchen table untouched until Nicole’s clothes were finally dried. Nicole dressed while Waverly watched her silently. There wasn’t awkwardness, just thoughtfulness. Nicole was tying her shoe laces as she sat on the couch when Waverly sat next to her.

     “I don’t feel bad about this. Should I?” Waverly said. Nicole leaned back on the couch.

     “You don’t have to feel anything. Everyone involved in this made a choice. Champ, you, and me, we all made decisions. Do you think he feels guilty about cheating?”

     Waverly laid her hand on her stomach and rolled her eyes.

     “He’s cheated before—back when we were dating in high school. I put up with it because I felt like it wasn’t worth getting upset about.”

    “Well then, there’s your answer, I suppose.”

     “Are you going to go home? I know you have to work tomorrow.” Nicole looked at Waverly then, her eyes tender with understanding.

     “That’s up to you, Waverly.”

     “I don’t really want to stay in this house tonight. I don’t honestly think I can bear it.” Nicole stood and turned to Waverly.

     “Then let’s go.”

     The ride back to Nicole’s apartment was accompanied by the soft strums of guitar playing from Nicole’s satellite radio. It was a song neither of them knew; whether the song was ten years old or fresh didn’t much matter. It cascaded around them and Waverly felt at ease. She leaned forward to raise the volume a hair, and what was once a murmur had lyrics and meaning.

     “You know this one?” Nicole asked, as she turned the corner and arrived at her apartment.

     “No, but it’s nice.” _I feel safe._ The words would never be spoken aloud—there wasn’t a need.

     They lay together in the safety of each others arms. In her sleep, Waverly would clutch at Nicole, and hold her breath for a few minutes. Every time this happened, Nicole would rouse, just long enough to hear the exhale, and then fall asleep again. They’d never slept in the same bed before, but it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone. They shared the same space in a sort of easy cohabitation one might find with people who’d grown up together.

     The phone call came in the morning, just as Nicole was taking a shower. An unknown number. It rang unanswered, and the voicemail was left unnoticed by Waverly, asleep in Nicole’s bed.

     “Waves?” Came an unsure voice. “It’s Wynonna. I tried the house phone, but I didn’t get an answer. I’m coming back to Purgatory, baby girl. Give me a call back, okay? I love you.”  

 

(Stay tuned for Part 2)

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please comment. Kudos are fine, but comments are preferred. That's going to get you part two faster, and no that's not an empty promise. I'm a gumball machine, and when you put comments in, more fic comes out. The pink flavor. The best kind!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @trashsalad. Come say hi. I promise I won't bite. I might flirt with you. It's fun, y'all.
> 
> I'd like to thank sensitive pigeon. She's very tall, and she likes to listen to my conspiracy theories about secretly gay celebrities as well as puts up with my ramblings. Sometimes she tells me stories about monsters. She's an amazing human, and you should read Get Lost and give her kudos and comments. She likes bagels from Panera Bread, and she's awesome.


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